A Cold Day in the Caribbean
by Squidjum
Summary: Just a little ficlet I thought of on this here cold and rainy day. Jack has a violent encounter in a market, rated for suggestive themes. Please read and review.


A Cold Day in the Caribbean  
  
A/N-Just a little ficlet I thought of on this here cold and rainy day. More for my sad amusement than anything else, but please read and review.  
  
Disclaimer-I do not own any of the characters in Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl . . .though I wish I owned Jack *drools*. Uh, Ahem, yes that's it for the disclaimer.  
  
Captain Jack Sparrow of the Black Pearl strolled down the streets of Montego Bay, Jamaica. Perusing market stalls and street venders on this cold and cloudy day, he also paused every now and again to listen to the better of the street musicians.  
  
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Kiri Baker was one such musician. Set up with her back to a wall and facing the open street, she sat on a rickety and uncomfortable looking stool, fiddling away to the delight of the masses. Actually, it was hardly to the delight of the masses. The streets were so noisy and busy as to make it impossible to hear her outside of a 15 foot radius, and she was playing in the hopes of collecting enough money to pay off her rent on a decrepit room above the shop she was playing in front of. Still, with the sun on her face (on most days) and the wind in her hair, it wasn't such a bad life, even in the winter. Better than labouring on the docks or working the fields, which was about all else she could hope to do unless she got married.  
  
She snorted, pausing in her playing. Marriage, there was a fine idea, she thought dryly. The only problem was she'd have to take a long enough break from playing to find someone worth courting. Then she'd have to court them . . . and weren't the men supposed to initiate courting? She growled to herself. Life was hardly fair. She'd be a bloody street performer until she went to her grave, and that would likely be as sorry as her apartment  
  
"You girl!" Thomas hollered at her from inside his grocery, "Keep playing!"  
  
So play she did. She smiled when a man tossed her a coin, but took no time in celebrating. There were hours of daylight left, and she needed to make money now before her arm grew too tired and her playing suffered. Another man, this one obviously wealthy, tossed her a coin, not even caring if the coin landed in the case. What was one coin, after all, to a man with so many? Kiri smiled at him, but he never saw. By this point he was ten feet away with his back to her. This was frustrating, but Kiri had trained herself to be polite. As a street musician, you had to at least pretend you were thrilled every single moment.  
  
Turning back to her music stand, she noticed one less-than-respectable looking man. He was about 30 feet down the road, and was meandering his way towards her. His rugged, unclean appearance didn't really bother her; after all she'd seen worse, and many people in Montego Bay were travelers by trade, and just returning from a long voyage would give a person, well, less than stellar hygiene. No, the thing that drew eyes to him was his attitude. Even his meander had a swagger, as if he were a cut above the rest of them and knew it. Kiri watched him disapprovingly, and he, noticing her watching, swaggered all the more and gave her a roguish grin. She did not return the favor, but went back to her playing.  
  
Within 30 seconds, she had all but forgotten the man. That is, until he tried to rob her.  
  
"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!" she roared at him, nearly taking his eye out with her bow. He recoiled slightly, and then grinned at her, his fist full of coins from her music case at her feet.  
  
"They don't pay you well do they," he commented. "'tis a shame, you're a better musician than most."  
  
She glared at him, and through gritted teeth, she said, "Kindly put down the money." She growled for emphasis. The man looked affronted.  
  
"Put down the money? Now really, I was just doing you a simple act of kindness, counting your money for you . . ." Switching tunes, he said, "I'll give it back, as an exchange . . ." he trailed off suggestively. Kiri's scowl deepened.  
  
"I'll inform you, since you obviously can't figure it out for yourself, that I am a musician, not a woman for hire!" She then slapped him full on the face, gesturing with her other hand for him to leave. He took the hint, muttering darkly to himself about females who don't appreciate the attentions they receive.  
  
Only after he'd left did Kiri realize the man had never dropped his handful of coins. She looked despairingly at her now almost empty case and groaned. Today was not her day.  
  
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Now several hundred yards away, the man, who was none other than Jack Sparrow, crossed paths with the man he'd been waiting for this last half hour so they could continue on their way.  
  
"Will!" he barked, "have you finished your business here?"  
  
The young pirate/blacksmith nodded the affirmative, then, narrowing his eyes, studied his captain.  
  
"I suppose you didn't deserve that one, either?"  
  
Jack, catching the reference to his reddened cheek, pursed his lips. Realizing he still held the handful of coins, he said,  
  
"You know, I think I might have."  
  
"Then it is a cold day in Hell. Jack Sparrow's admitting he's in the wrong!" Will exclaimed, mockingly shocked.  
  
"Shut it, lad. It's not a cold day in Hell, merely a cold day in the Caribbean," he looked at Will, his eyes making his meaning rather clear. "Savvy?" 


End file.
